


Press One For Heaven

by AEpixie7



Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy [21]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Feels, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Plot With Porn, Verbal Sex, and then smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23644831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Gabriel returns to Heaven to deal with a very emotional Michael, after having gained an unlikely friend in Aziraphale.Then, well... he calls Beelzebub and some fun time on the phone ensues.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Dagon/Michael (Good Omens), Gabriel & Michael (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1437652
Comments: 9
Kudos: 98





	Press One For Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long delay getting this one updated. It's been a rough update, and I'm still not entirely sure I'm happy with it. There's some major whiplash happening here but I didn't want to split it up into two updates. Not sure these two scenes belong in the same update but I couldn't just ignore Michael's reaction to Beelzebub's actions. Also it's setting up some important plot bits for later. The other scene... satiates my need to write porn lol. Enjoy the roller coaster.

Gabriel had honestly lost track of time. It was strange—now that Aziraphale was no longer under his command, it was so much easier to see him for what he was; a fussy, prim, witty angel with a penchant for hiding his bastard side beneath a coy smile and innocent eyes. Gabriel was not only impressed, he was somewhat stunned. He genuinely _enjoyed_ Aziraphale’s company. How many opportunities had he missed over the centuries? How many friendships had he jeopardized with his own vanity? 

He took a resigned sip of his scotch and sighed, watching as the Principality sat happily munching some sort of gross matter. Gabriel was on his third or fourth glass of scotch (he couldn’t quite remember), and he was just starting to feel comfortably numb when a phone dinged. He stared in confusion at Aziraphale for a moment, until he remembered that Aziraphale had promptly misplaced his phone as soon as it had been issued by Heaven. 

“Oh,” Gabriel muttered, setting down his glass of scotch and slipping his phone out of his inside breast pocket. It was a text from Uriel. 

**Get your ass up here. Something's wrong with Michael.**

Gabriel had to swallow a moment of panic before dialing Uriel's number. “Excuse me a moment, Aziraphale, I need to make a call…” 

Aziraphale nodded and seemed entirely content to enjoy the rest of his meal without preamble. 

“Are you on your way?” Uriel barked. 

“No. I'm uh, meeting an old friend. What do you mean something’s wrong with Michael?” 

From Uriel's end of the phone came a distant anguished scream and the shattering of glass, followed by Uriel's irritated answer. 

“Damn it all, Gabriel, I don’t know! I’ve never seen her like this before! She returned from Earth fuming like mad, muttering something about 'squashing that insignificant insect.’ She went straight to the Holy Water armory and… Gabriel she's _breaking things_ will you _please_ just get your arse up here?!” 

“Shit,” Gabriel cursed under his breath, before straightening and clearing his throat. “Alright, Uriel. I'll be up shortly. Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he said, very business-like, and hung up the phone. 

“My apologies, Aziraphale, I’m going to have to cut this short. Fires to put out in Heaven. Not uh, actual fires. That was just… the once…” he joked with a nervous smile, hoping some levity concerning Aziraphale's trial might serve to ease the tension surrounding it. Aziraphale’s thinly pursed lips and raised eyebrow proved otherwise. 

“Not there yet. Right. I get it,” Gabriel gulped, downing the rest of his drink and standing quickly to button his suit jacket. “I appreciate the time you've taken to speak with me. I really do. You had every reason to turn me away, or worse, unleash the Serpent on me. So thank you…” he said, holding out his hand toward his fellow angel, who stared down at it for a moment. Aziraphale sighed, pulling a pen from his coat pocket and scribbling something on a paper napkin. 

“Crowley is going to _kill me_ …” he muttered to himself as he folded the piece of paper up into a square and stood, pressing the note into Gabriel’s waiting hand. 

“What’s this?” Gabriel asked, pulling the note open to find a hastily scribbled address. 

“It’s a… safety net, of sorts. If you ever find yourself running, and you have nowhere else to go… you can come here. It’s a little cottage in the South Downs. Crowley and I go there to get away, sometimes. Now do understand, this is a last resort, I don’t want you and the Prince showing up to join us for crepes on a Sunday morning, but… just because we refused to reveal our immunity, I don’t want you thinking that… you're alone.” 

Gabriel glanced down at the note once again and felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude that he didn’t even know how to express. Apparently his aura did, because Aziraphale let out a breathless _“oh”_ and placed a hand over his heart. “Don’t thank me. Just get back to Heaven before Michael spontaneously combusts.” 

Gabriel sighed shakily and tucked the note inside his jacket pocket, swallowing hard against the emotion bubbling up. “Thank you Aziraphale. You're… you're a very good angel.” 

Gabriel didn’t expect a compliment coming from him to really hold any weight, given that his opinion shouldn’t really mean anything anymore. Even so, Aziraphale’s eyes glistened a bit as he blushed and fidgeted. “I’m just doing what… feels right, Gabriel.” 

_Like he did with the flaming sword. And Armageddon._

“Good luck,” Aziraphale said. “Take care of your demon. They’re… a lot more vulnerable than they let on.” 

Gabriel chuckled. “You’re not wrong.” 

He held out his hand once again and Aziraphale took it willingly, his gaze soft as he closed both hands around Gabriel's and patted it reassuringly. Aziraphale nodded once before turning to leave without another word. Gabriel watched him go and shook his head, quickly miracling the bill paid and sending himself back to Heaven before he could think too hard about the gravity of what had just happened. 

*** 

Gabriel made his way straight to the Holy water armory, the sounds of shouting and breaking glass audible from nearly every corner of Heaven. He had been worried when Uriel texted him, but now he was terrified. Had something happened? His pulse was thundering in his veins when he rounded the corner and nearly smacked face first into Sandalphon. 

“Jesus Christ,” Gabriel muttered, jumping back and sighing as Uriel rounded Sandalphon with an irate glare. 

“Watch your blasphemous mouth, Messenger, and what the _Heavens_ took you so long?” Uriel seethed, their hands on their hips as they leaned in to Gabriel's personal space. He held his hands up in surrender and backed away from the smaller but arguably far more intimidating angel. 

“I’m sorry, Uriel, I do occasionally have important things to attend to on Earth and I couldn’t just…” 

All three Archangels’ attention was pulled back to the glass walls of the armory as another decanter shattered. 

“She won’t listen to me. She already hit Sandalphon with a bottle…” Uriel gestured to Sandalphon's forehead where there was a small cut above his brow. Gabriel hissed at the sight of it but had to suppress a giggle. Wait until Beelzebub heard about this. She had once remarked that Sandalphon's head looked like a bowling ball and how she had dreamt of hitting it with something just to see if it was hollow. She'd be livid that Michael beat her to it. 

“Alright, let me talk to her. Just… give us some space?” Gabriel asked, knowing his request seemed odd but really hoping his fellow Archangels wouldn’t question it. He could speak freely with Michael concerning their common affinity for their demon companions if they were alone, but in the presence of the others he doubted if he could get to the true root of Michael’s distress. Uriel's eyes narrowed at him, but they straightened eventually. 

“Very well. But make sure she knows this little incident didn’t go unnoticed,” Uriel spat, jutting their head back toward a nearby busy office space where angels bustled to get back to work once they realized the eyes of the Archangel Gabriel had caught them staring. _This is not good. We can’t afford this kind of attention. What the hell is Michael thinking?_

“Of course,” Gabriel reassured the departing Archangels, a quiet sigh of relief slipping past his lips once they had disappeared down the hall. He turned toward the brightly lit room, the white light pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling glass walls and ricocheting off the thousands of crystal decanters. The refracted light sent rainbows scattering over the entire space, an effect which had once been awe-inspiring and calming to Gabriel. Now that he loved a demon and knew what a single drop of this stuff could do to his love… it was suddenly terrifying. Of course Holy water could always be made on Earth through blessings by a priest or angel, but the contents within this room were classified as “the Holiest.” There was enough of it here to eradicate all of Hell. 

He stepped into the armory and felt a sprinkle of shattered glass on the shoulder of his jacket from a nearby collision with the wall. 

“You!” Michael snarled, her eyes wild and red and her hair falling from its usual pristine updo. She had removed her blazer and wore only a light ruffled blouse, and her hands were bleeding gold where she had clearly ignored some shattered glass. 

“I could kill your precious little fly, I _swear to God!_ ” she shouted, advancing on Gabriel with rage in her eyes. He held up his hands in surrender and backed away from her, glancing through the glass walls for anyone who might have overheard. 

“For God’s sake Michael, keep your voice down. What the hell are you talking about, Beelzebub didn’t do anything…” 

“The _hell_ she didn’t! Dagon and I spent three _wonderful_ days together. She was _safe_. She was there with me, where I could ensure nothing bad happens to her and then one little text from that _insect_ and Dagon rushes back to Hell without a second thought! It’s manipulation, is what that is. Too afraid to disobey her boss's orders. Why the _fuck_ is the Prince walking back into that! After what happened to Belphegor?! If anything happens to Dagon because of her, I'll slice off her limbs and shove them down her gluttonous throat I _swear_ …” 

Tears streamed down Michael’s face as she turned and grabbed another decanter of Holy water and threw it across the room to explode against the far wall. 

“Michael, you're being irrational, just think about this for a minute and calm down…” 

Gabriel barely managed to duck an incoming projectile aimed for his head. 

“How dare you, Gabriel! I’m being _irrational?!_ You have no idea what this is like! I've got this… gaping wound inside me where Ligur used to be, and I've tried _so hard_ to heal it, or forget it, or ignore it. Dagon was the _only_ thing helping put me back together and I don’t know how I could be so _stupid_ as to think I would be able to open myself back up like this. That first night, at the castle, I told you, I _told you_ it was a mistake, that I couldn’t handle this again, I couldn’t love a demon again and… I let you convince me. I let you tell me I was strong enough and I deserved to be happy but I'm not strong enough, Gabriel. I’m not! How many pieces of myself can I lose before there's nothing left?” 

She turned to retrieve another bottle, but Gabriel grabbed her wrist. She tried to yank away from him but he tightened his grip, his eyes flickering back toward the prying stares of the angels outside. Michael screamed at him to release her, her bloody hands clawing at his wrist. When he didn’t let go, she resorted to beating his chest and crying, but her assault was weak. She collapsed against him, and he sank to the ground with her when her knees gave out. 

“I can't do this, Gabriel, I can’t…” she mumbled against his suit jacket, her fingers weakly gripping his lapel and her entire body wracked with shivers. He didn’t even think about what he was doing, he just did it. 

He held Michael in his arms and reached out with his aura, nudging along the edge of hers and horrified at what he found. She wasn’t lying—there was actually a wound in her aura. A raw, gruesome tear straight to the heart of her celestial energy. He gasped at the maliciousness within it. Rage, pain, hate—the likes of which he'd never felt before, especially not from an angel. It wanted to consume her, to overtake her entire soul. It was pulsing and writhing, gnawing at the ragged edges of the wound, but there were shards of love. Little threads that had begun to stitch it closed. They were weak, and thin, but they were there. Gabriel could feel the imprint of Dagon on them. What would happen if they snapped? No wonder Michael was terrified. If those stitches of love failed to contain this wound, would all that rage and pain spill out? Was this how angels fell? 

He took a deep breath and remembered what Beelzebub had done when he was panicking. He tried to repeat the gesture, his wings spreading out to his sides and his aura opening up to coax Michael to do the same. Her aura snapped back, though, and she physically shoved him away. She fell back and caught herself on her palms, her golden blood smearing on the alabaster floors. 

“Don't, Gabriel,” she urged quietly, her eyes wide with panic. 

“What… why not?” 

“You just can’t, alright? You’re not supposed to… how do you even remember that? Angels haven't done that since before the fall, I thought you didn’t remember…” she stuttered, her bottom lip still quivering. Gabriel crawled forward cautiously, confused but still feeling that _need_ to comfort his friend. She twitched away from him, but conceded as he gently pulled her back into his arms, his aura retreating to settle tightly around his corporation. 

“I saw it in a dream. Bee's dream. When we were sharing my aura. She helped me, when I was panicking. It's just sharing auras, how could that possibly be bad? I just want to help you…” 

Michael sniffled and clung a little tighter to his lapel. “It’s more than that, Gabriel. It's sharing everything. I can’t say any more than that, it would betray my vow of silence to the Almighty. Just please don’t try that again. Not here. It's forbidden.” 

Gabriel sighed, annoyed, and pulled Michael a little tighter into his arms as he folded his wings away. “Fine. Just another rule to add to the list, but it’s fine,” he sassed, ignoring Michael when she pulled back to give him a reproachful look. He was aware his tone was getting dangerously close to disobedient, but he just couldn’t understand how sharing auras in an attempt to comfort each other could possibly be bad. More confusion to add to the post-Apocalyptic shit show he'd been trudging through. 

“Michael, I know you’re scared, and you’re hurting. I don’t have to share your aura to see that. But you can’t blame Beelzebub. I didn’t understand at first either, when she said she was going back to Hell. Why anyone would willingly walk back into that… but she helped me understand. If she doesn’t go back, someone will notice, and they will send the legions after her, and then she's jeopardized my safety and the safety of everything we've built together. Everything she loves. And… she wouldn’t survive it, if something were to happen to me. And you have to remember Dagon is her best friend. What would you do, if it were me?” 

Michael thought for a moment, and sniffed once in defiance, keeping her eyes downcast as she remained clinging to Gabriel's lapel. She refused to answer, because she knew he was right. 

“You know if it were me in danger, you wouldn’t hesitate to be by my side. You have to trust Dagon. She’s going to protect her friend, and Bee will do the same. If they were down there by themselves, I’d be far more apprehensive. Just knowing that they’ve got each other… you have to take solace in that.” 

Michael went to wipe her tears away with a bloody hand, but Gabriel gently caught her wrist. He wrapped his hand around hers and healed the wounds, then wiped her tears away himself. He’d seen another side of Michael since the averted apocalypse, and while it had been jarring at first, to realize she wasn’t the impervious warrior she portrayed in public, he was glad he could be there for her now. He didn’t know what lay ahead for him and his friend, or their demon companions, but he knew they would face it together. Just like Crowley and Aziraphale had. The Almighty wouldn’t have allowed that to happen if She didn’t have a Plan for what followed. 

“I’m still angry with Beelzebub,” Michael muttered, taking a deep breath and pulling out of Gabriel's arms. She stood and brushed off the flowy sleeves of her blouse, her eyes shifting sheepishly. 

Gabriel stood and adjusted his lapel, miracling Michael's blood away from the fabric. “Are you ever not?” Gabriel asked, smiling when Michael failed to hide her grin. She had retrieved her blazer and slipped it over her shoulders, adjusting the ruffled wrist cuffs of her shirt beneath it. She buttoned the jacket and straightened, rolling her shoulders as she set her jaw—ever the picture of strength and poise, as if nothing had even happened. Gabriel stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright, Michael?” he asked quietly. She took a long, slow breath, and fabricated a smile that was far from convincing. 

“I am. Thank you, dove.” 

Gabriel squeezed her shoulder and raised his eyebrows at her, so she knew he wasn’t convinced, before he dropped his hand once again to his side. 

“We’ll figure this out. I promise we will. I already have… a few leads on a solution. I don’t want to jeopardize my source, but I have obtained a… safety net, of sorts.” 

“I know it’s Aziraphale, Gabriel. Who else would you have been meeting on Earth?” Michael said, grumpily trudging around the room and miracling broken glass and spilled Holy water off the floor. “And I refuse to turn to them for help. Not after what Crowley did to…” she cut herself off, angrily jamming a cork into the neck of one of the bottles with enough force to shove it all the way into the bottle. Gabriel gave her a moment before speaking again. 

“Even if it meant… the only thing keeping Dagon safe?” 

Michael sighed and kept her back to him. “I am not having this conversation with you, Gabriel. I appreciate the offer, but if everything goes tits up, you take care of your demon, and I'll take care of mine.” 

This conversation was not over, but Gabriel decided to let it slide. “Fine. For all our sakes, I hope we won’t ever have to face that scenario. And… speaking of my demon, I have a favor to ask. Can you… jailbreak my phone the way you did with yours? I need to update her on… what I found out on Earth.” 

Michael rolled her eyes and approached, snatching Gabriel's phone out of his hands before she froze and slowly looked up to meet his eyes. 

“You didn’t… find out how they achieved their immunity… did you?” she asked. Michael was his best friend and an exemplary angel, but the look she was giving him was almost sinister. Even if Gabriel _had_ found out Crowley and Aziraphale's secret, it might be ill-advised to tell Michael, given her… _opinion_ of the demon Crowley. 

“No, I didn’t. They… refused to divulge that particular piece of information,” he responded carefully. Michael watched him for a moment, as if she were analyzing him for any sign of deception, before shrugging off whatever dark thoughts had overtaken her and tapping her fingers quickly against his phone. 

“There. If anyone from records looks up your phone, it will appear as if it got destroyed. If they ask, say it slipped your mind to have it replaced.” 

“Thank you, Michael,” he said earnestly as she settled back into her usual disinterested demeanor. She nodded and turned on her heel to depart, stopping in the doorway to shoot him a sarcastic grin. 

“Tell the Lord of Flies she can go fuck herself.” 

“I most certainly will not,” he volleyed her grin right back at her. 

Michael nodded and promptly stomped out into the office outside to bark at the nosey angels as if they were the ones in the wrong. From the looks on their faces, they believed it. 

Gabriel retreated to his office, closing the door behind him and loosening his tie. He unbuttoned his jacket and sank into his desk chair, rubbing his temple and dialing Beelzebub's private number. She was as chipper as ever. 

“What?” she barked. 

“Well hello to you too, _darling_ ,” he sassed with a smile, his heart soaring at the growl from the other end of the call. 

“I’m stressed. It's hot. It smellzz. Sue me for not being in a good mood. Azzzz I asked once already… _what?!_ ” 

Gabriel sighed and shook his head, still grinning. What kind of lovestruck idiot was he for thinking Beelzebub's mood swings were _endearing?_

“Well I wanted to update you on my meeting on Earth…” 

Beelzebub interrupted him. “With the traitorzzz?” 

“Yes. With _Crowley and Aziraphale._ I um… appealed to them as… _calmly_ as I could…” 

_(A Heavenly lie detector somewhere beeped furiously.)_

“But… they refused.” 

Beelzebub grunted. “Hm. Probably wizzze. Crowley knows if I ever found out how to circumvent his immunity, I'd kick his ass.” 

“You’d probably have to fight Michael for the opportunity.” 

He could _hear_ the smile on Beelzebub's voice. “Izzzz that so?” 

“Don’t be a brat.” 

“Never, angel, ‘brat’ is your job.” 

He chuckled at her, wishing he could run his fingers through her hair and watch her smile that devious smile he loved so much. “I didn’t get the answer I wanted, but I didn’t exactly leave empty handed either. Aziraphale provided a safe house of sorts. If the castle is compromised and we have to run, he gave me a safe place for us to go.” 

Beelzebub buzzed. “Kind of him. What’zz the catch?” 

“Bee, he’s an angel, there isn’t a catch.” 

“Still naïve, I see. There'zzz always a catch.” 

“ _Still a skeptic I see_. He’s an angel who loves a demon. I think he was being empathetic. He saw another angel who was scared for his demon and… he did the right thing.” 

“If I didn’t know any better, I'd think you'd gone soft for that traitor.” 

“I just realize that Armageddon being foiled must have been in God's plan all along, and so was all of this. I have to have faith, Bee, otherwise…” 

“I know _otherwise_ ,” she snarled, and he could hear her buzzing quietly in agitation. He listened to her buzzing for a moment, and longed to feel that buzz against his chest. 

“I miss you, Bee.” 

She scoffed into the phone. “We just saw each other this morning, angel.” 

“I know. Doesn’t stop me from missing you any less.” 

She was quiet for a moment. 

“Just… wish I could touch you, is all,” he clarified. 

Beelzebub giggled. “Ooohhh, you miss me like _that_ , do you?” 

“Like what? I miss you the normal way you miss anybody. I hate not knowing the next time I might see you. Not knowing when I can run my fingertips over your skin, your feathers…” 

“Or the next time I get to smack that pretty face of yourzzz?” 

Gabriel groaned plaintively and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t do that to me, Bee. You can’t tempt me like that otherwise I might have to come down there and _show_ you how much I miss you.” 

Beelzebub hummed, and he swore he could hear the clicking of a claw against the phone. 

“Angel. You wouldn’t happen to be, say… alone in your office with the door shut, would you?” she asked, her tone dripping with mischief. 

“I am. Why?” 

She let loose a sinister chuckle. “Izzz the door locked?” 

He snapped and miracled the door locked. 

“It is now, and I’ll ask again, _why?_ ” 

Beelzebub's voice was quiet and muffled, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her face, but he could still hear what she said aloud to herself. _“You chose the dumb one, Beelzebub. It's your own bloody fault.”_

“I resent that,” he said with no real conviction. Her harsh tone in response sent a shiver through him that settled as a weightless pit in his belly. 

“Oh shut it, you love being degraded and you know it. Now… tell me what you'd do to me if you _did_ happen to pop down to Hell.” 

Gabriel thought for a moment. 

Oh. 

**OH.**

“Um, really? Over the phone?” 

“You know how your master hates it when you make her wait.” 

Gabriel gulped. He chanced another glance at the door, just to be sure it was locked. 

“Um… okay. Uh… I guess… I'd kiss you?” 

Beelzebub sighed dramatically. “What izzzz this, a sparkly vampire romance novel? Come on angel. You can do better than that. Close your eyezz. Picture me here, in my throne room, all alone. I'm entirely naked and I'm touching myself to thoughts of your pretty cock.” 

_Whoa._

Gabriel swallowed hard and had to rearrange in his office chair. He felt _warm_ , was it getting hot in here? 

“Is… is that really what you're doing?” he asked quietly, picturing her lounging in that marvelous throne, one leg hooked over the armrest and her skin flushed and feverish as her fingers played between her legs. 

“Mmmmmm yezzzz,” she drawled, and he could practically hear the lust in her voice. “So why don’t you free that marvelous cock of yourzzz, and tell me what you want to do about thizz.” 

Gabriel practically scrambled to unfasten his trousers, dropping his phone to the floor in his haste. He snatched it up and propped it between his cheek and shoulder as he pushed his trousers and underwear down past his ass. 

“I um… I’ve never done this before,” he mumbled nervously as he took himself in hand and gave himself an experimental stroke. The physical stimulation was pleasant, but hearing Beelzebub quietly buzzing with excitement sent a shiver through him and made him stiffen noticeably in his hand. 

“That’zzzz alright, angel. My innocent little angel, master will take care of you.” 

He wanted to protest being called innocent. She should know by now that her influence over the last year of dalliances had made him anything but innocent. But the syrupy sweetness in her voice, the implication that she would take care of him, _spoil_ him. He could hardly contain his whimper as he stroked himself to that thought. 

“You’ve touched yourself to thoughtzzz of me, haven’t you?” she asked. He felt a jolt of nervousness at answering, before he realized that answering her held no shame. Where he would usually blush and fumble to deny such sin, with Beelzebub he could not only openly admit it, but he could be enthusiastic in his admission. He quickened his strokes and sighed as he relaxed into his desk chair. 

“Yes,” he answered, her responding chuckle doing things to him that he had not expected from just her voice. 

“This izzz no different, I'm just setting the scene for you, and you tell me what you're imagining. What getzzz you off. So what izzz it you want to do to me, angel?” 

Gabriel had never considered his imagination very good, but where Beelzebub was concerned, it felt almost effortless. Nothing would ever compare to the sensation of her fingers gripping his hair, her claws pressing in to his skin _just_ hard enough, but imagining her alone in her throne room, wanton and shaking for him… it made his blood pump and his mind race with images. Now then… what _would_ he do to her? 

“Alright. Well, I guess since I’m in the presence of the exalted Prince of Hell, it would only be fitting that I get on my knees…” 

Beelzebub heaved a breathless _“yes.”_

“I start at your ankles. Of course you're still wearing the fishnets, you know they’re my favorite and like you said, you're such a generous master and you spoil me,” he teased, expecting her to argue but all he could hear was a hitch in her breathing and _fuck_ that was hot. 

“I kiss my way up those pale legs of yours, maybe bite here and there, leave the marks of an angel's love on your pretty skin…” 

Beelzebub did a very poor job of covering up a whimper. 

“Your thighs, _god_ I love your thighs. I just want to grab handfuls of them, drag you to the edge of that throne and spread your legs, _fuck_ …” 

“Don’t stop,” Beelzebub whined, and he had to take a moment to stop touching himself and breathe. Hearing her begging like that… it sent a shock of pleasure straight to his core and he nearly came. Couldn’t have this ending that quickly. He'd never hear the end of it. 

“Look at you, dripping wet and begging for my mouth…” 

“ _Yes angel._ ” 

Gabriel grinned as he found himself in a unique position. Where his mouth would normally be preoccupied, in this situation he could still talk. What better time to put Beelzebub's praise kink to use? 

“I could spend hours like this, Bee. My head between your thighs, kissing, licking you into ecstasy. I'd hold your hips, let you grab onto my hair when I flick my tongue just right. I love it when you pull my hair, the way you try and buck your hips but I hold you down, working you like putty. The taste of you, the feel of you against my tongue. I’d devour you, my gluttony demon. What a tempter you are, I can’t even help it, I'd gorge myself on your little noises, your pleas. Begging me for more. God, I’d fuck you with my tongue, my fingers… reduce my darling Prince to a shaking mess, make your toes curl until you're screaming my name…” 

He stopped to listen to her cry out his name so sweetly, the uninhibited kind of sound she only ever made when she came. He had heard the tell-tale signs approaching—her ragged breathing, the scattered whimpers here and there. How he wished he could see her now, this was _torture!_

“Angel, I ever tell you… you’re really fucking good with your mouth?” Beelzebub panted breathlessly into the phone. 

He chuckled at her, finally taking himself back in hand and stroking himself a few times to the sound of her soft, post-orgasmic buzzing. “Yeah, Bee. But tell me again.” 

“It's downright sinful. ‘Zzzz not fair. God graced you with a body like _that_ and a talented mouth to match? Fucking showoff.” 

“You’re one to talk, calling _Her_ a showoff. I should buy some mirrors for our bedroom, so you can see just how _fucking hot_ you are when you’re riding me…” 

“Oh yeah? You like it like that?” 

Gabriel stroked himself just a bit faster and huffed out a quick breath. “You have _no idea_ how much I like that. The view is _incredible_ , watching the way you move. When you scratch down my chest with your claws, that little smirk on your face cuz you know you've got me right where you want me. I can hold your hips, fuck up inside you when you go too slow…” 

“Ah ah ah, angel. That soundzzz dangerously close to you taking control. You know who'zzz boss.” 

Gabriel bit his lip and whimpered, squirming helplessly in his chair. “You know you like it, when I hold you still above me and fuck you six ways to Sunday…” 

Beelzebub hissed into the phone. “Say it. Tell me who'zzz in charge of you, pet.” 

Gabriel grinned and blushed, his heart hammering in his chest as he uttered the word “no.” Normally he could only push Beelzebub so far in person, before she would get vindictive with her punishment. But he was getting brave, knowing she couldn’t _actually_ punish him. Not imminently, anyway. She would probably compartmentalize her anger until next time they saw each other and take it out on him tenfold. Something to look forward to, at least. 

“You fucking _brat_. You’ve lost your privileges. I’m chaining you to this throne and putting you in your place.” 

Gabriel groaned at the idea of cold iron chains against his skin. It sent a chill straight to his core, and his cock leaked precum over his hand. 

“At least _pretend_ being chained up izzz actually punishment for you…” Beelzebub teased when she heard him groan. 

“Well I guess that depends how I'm chained,” he answered, smiling as he imagined the annoyed look on her face when he didn’t even flinch from her supposed ‘punishment.’ 

“With your handzzz over your head. If you insist on being in control, I'm taking it all away. Now you can’t touch me. You can only watch what I'm doing to you.” 

Gabriel bit his lip and closed his eyes, sinking down slightly in his chair and envisioning his Prince, power hungry and commanding, as she leaned over him and chained his hands to her throne. He made a mental note to have a replica of her throne commissioned for the castle. For… reasons. 

“Now then, disobedient _brat_. I am going to train that sort of disrespect out of you.” 

“Do your worst, my Prince.” 

Beelzebub sniggered. “Spread those legs for me, that’zzzz a good pet.” 

Gabriel found himself doing as she asked, even knowing in the back of his mind that he wasn’t really in her presence. 

“Gonna mark up those pretty thighs, teach you a lesson,” Beelzebub growled, and the next thing he knew, he heard the snap of leather through the phone, as if a whip had been cracked. He barely had time to wonder if she’d actually miracled a whip just for the occasion, because he had to stifle a cry as he squeezed just beneath the head of his cock in a desperate attempt to keep himself from coming. 

“If you come before you're given permission, angel, there will be Hell to pay.” 

He continued to whimper until the waves dissipated, his chest heaving and his thighs trembling. Beelzebub allowed him to catch his breath before cracking the whip again and sending him reeling all over again. 

“ _Fuck_ , Bee. Did you really...” 

“Silenzzzze!” she snarled. “You may not speak unless given permission, you may not come unless given permission. Izzz that understood?” 

Gabriel tried to calm his breathing but ultimately failed. His voice was weak from panting when he managed to speak. “Yes, my Prince.” 

“Good. Now who’zz a good angel that’ll let me ride hizzz magnificent cock like the fuck boy he izzz?” 

Gabriel bit his lip and once again simply held the base of his cock, the throbbing becoming almost unbearable. He wanted to hold out for her, but _goddamn_ was she hot when she described what she would be doing to him. _And she says I’m the one with the smart mouth._

“You say you like it when I ride you, hm? Well I like it, too. I get to decide the speed, I get to watch you squirm. This izzz even better, with your handzzz chained, I’ll ride you fast and rough just the way I like, run my clawzzz over your skin. A masterpiece, you are, with claw marks on those abs. Maybe I’ll bite your chest, just hard enough that it burnzzz.” 

“Fuck Bee, I...” 

“Hush now, angel. Your master izzz going to use your body for her own pleasure. How many orgasms do you think I could have, impaling myself on your rock-hard cock, before you break? Four? Five?” 

“Nggh Bee, ‘m gonna...” 

“Stop.” 

Gabriel fumbled as he struggled to contain the imminent orgasm that threatened just beyond the ringing in his ears. “Wh-what?!” he practically shouted. 

“I said stop.” 

“Sh...shit, Bee, I can’t, I can’t, _oh f-fuck_...” 

He came with a cry of relief, pumping his release out onto his hand and his clean white dress shirt. He whimpered through the waves of it, until finally he bumbled out his apologies for having disobeyed a direct order. For her part, Beelzebub sounded _far_ too pleased with herself. 

“That’zzz alright, angel. Just meanzz I will have to discipline you next time. And trust me, I will.” 

Gabriel found himself mumbling her praises and thanking her for her benevolence. She listened to him whine for a while, until his breathing slowed and she could tell he’d managed to get a hold of himself. 

“So, for your first time at phone sex, how wazzz it?” she asked, her cheeks blushing at his flustered scoff. 

“I... _fuck_ that was... I dunno Bee, how you manage to have the same effect on me, even when we’re separated by entire planes of existence, it’s... well it’s...” 

“If you say _ineffable_ I swear to Satan I will come up there and smack you to kingdom come.” 

Gabriel laughed out loud, his giggles persisting even as he miracled himself clean of the evidence of their misdeeds. 

“What’zzz so funny?” Beelzebub asked. 

“Oh nothing... Michael wanted me to tell you to go fuck yourself. I didn’t mean to... but I kind of did, didn’t I?” 

... 

“Bee?” 

**Call ended.**


End file.
